The Unwanted Fiancée Was the Real Heir

I walked into Sanchez Group's succession gala as Bill Jenner's fiancée.

No one in that room knew the person being handed control of the entire Sanchez family tonight was me.

I'd dressed quietly, simply. All I wanted was to wait for the ceremony to begin.

But the moment I stepped inside, Vivien Fisher, Bill's childhood sweetheart, walked straight toward me with a glass of red wine and threw every last drop onto my dress.

"Oh no, I'm so sorry!"

Her eyes welled up instantly.

"I didn't mean to."

It wasn't the first time. A full glass of red wine soaked through my white gown in seconds, the fabric clinging to every line of my body.

Every pair of eyes in that room locked onto me, hungry, shameless, ready to feed.

Fury shot through me.

I raised my hand to slap her across the face.

Before it landed, Bill seized my wrist and locked it in place.

He'd rushed over to pull Vivien into his arms, shielding her, and the look he gave me was the look you give trash.

"Melinda, why are you always going after Viv? Apologize. Right now."

Laughter broke out around us.

To every person in that room, I was the Sanchez daughter nobody wanted—a castoff clinging to the Jenner name, with not a soul willing to stand behind her.

I kept my face cold.

"Make her apologize to me first."

Bill raised his hand and shoved me hard onto the red carpet.

"Know your place. You don't get to make a scene here."

My lower back cracked against the edge of a table, and the pain hit like a spike driven straight through the bone.

I pulled out my phone and dialed.

"Listen. The second this gala ends, I want the Jenner family buried. Every last piece of them gone from Crestmont—every business, every name. I don't even want to see one of their dogs."

——

The second I hung up, the room erupted in laughter so loud it shook the walls.

One of Bill's hangers-on jabbed a finger at me, eyes full of mockery.

"Her? Take down the Jenner family? She's lost her mind!"

"Obviously. Everyone in Crestmont knows Melinda Sanchez is the least favored daughter in that family! If it weren't for Billy, she couldn't even get through the door tonight!"

"Exactly. Billy's practically with Viv already, and she's still clinging to that fiancée title. Pathetic."

Bill watched them tear into me.

Not a flicker of defense in his eyes. Nothing but smugness and impatience.

He curled one arm around Vivien's slender waist, then looked down at me with open contempt.

"Melinda, Viv's been back six months and you haven't stopped going after her for a single day. Now you're pulling this at an event like this? Do you not understand how anything works? You really are out of line."

The wine had soaked through my white gown long ago, still bleeding down along the lace, spreading in wide, vivid streaks of crimson across the white until every curve of my body was on full display.

I curled up on the floor, the fabric cold and sticky against my skin.

I tried to stand, but the pain in my lower back drove through me like a nail and I dropped right back down.

"What are you waiting for? Apologize to Viv! Stop embarrassing yourself!"

Bill's eyes were ice. He looked at me the way you look at something filthy.

Something clenched around my heart so tight I couldn't breathe.

My hand drifted instinctively behind me, reaching for my lower back.

Along my spine, my fingers found them immediately: the needle scars that still hadn't healed.

Three years ago, Bill was told he had leukemia.

Not a single person in the Jenner family lifted a finger.

When there was no one left to turn to, I went and got tested. Somehow, I was a match.

They used a marrow needle as long as my forearm, punching it into my back over and over—dozens of times.

Anesthesia doesn't work on me.

For eight straight hours I lay there feeling that needle bore into the bone, again and again, biting through my lower lip until it was raw.